


You don't know fear until you know me

by SophieRomanoff97



Series: The Lives of Little Natasha and her Family [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (not on purpose but still happens), (of a little not a bio kid but similar effect), ABDL, Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Awesome Clint Barton, Awesome Maria Hill, Awesome Natasha Romanov, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Big Brother Grant Ward, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Comfort, Depression, Derogatory Language, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Flashbacks, Grant Ward Feels, Grant Ward Isn't Hydra, Grant Ward Redemption, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, Love, Major Character Injury, Maria Hill & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Maria Hill is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Natasha Romanov, Parent Phil Coulson, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Phil Coulson & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Poor Grant Ward, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers (2012), Protective Clint Barton, Protective Grant Ward, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Phil Coulson, Red Room (Marvel), References to Depression, SHIELD, SHIELD Academy, SHIELD Family, Self-Harm, Separation Anxiety, Threats of Violence, Triggers, True Love, Violence, because fuck garrett so hard, john garrett sucks and i hate him, the Red Room Sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieRomanoff97/pseuds/SophieRomanoff97
Summary: Already on the edge of something dark, an incident involving her friend and his abusive uncle forces Natasha into the blackness of her mind. Will Clint be there to catch her this time, or will the darkness surrounding her push even him away?Fic is part of my age regression series so if that ain't your thing, probably don't click here :)
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Maria Hill/Bobbi Morse, Phil Coulson/Nick Fury/Melinda May, mentions of other relationships - Relationship
Series: The Lives of Little Natasha and her Family [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/893292
Comments: 18
Kudos: 124





	1. The dark beckons

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys.
> 
> Fic name taken from the poem of the same name by c.k (still unsure about it, might change it later on)
> 
> This started out as me wanting to write out something that happened to me very recently but turned into what is likely 2 or 3 chapters and will be way over 5000 words. It was going to be short and to the point but apparently I like to flesh stuff out now, who knew, so now we have a whole story and I haven't even written what I set out to write yet, whoops! Enjoyyyyy
> 
> Grant is not and never will be Hydra in this series and Garrett sucks so bad okay :)
> 
> Way more Clint/Nat stuff coming up and as per usual probably some Maria because I love her and am obsessed with Cobie (who also happened to have a new show come out yesterday called Stumptown and it's amazing and I have so many ideas).
> 
> Also do I make Nat threaten Garrett with what happened in season one???...yeah, sorry not sorry.
> 
> Angst galore, as per usual, trigger warning are all the stuff in the comments so have a look there before you decide to proceed.
> 
> malyshka - baby  
> milaya - sweetie
> 
> For now, let's goooooo!

Natasha didn’t have to go to the daycare very often. Even if Clint was busy, one of her aunts, uncles or one of her friends caregivers could usually look after her. After the first time she’d gone, Natty had been back a handful of times, all of which had been planned play-dates and not because Clint was busy.

He was busy one morning in January. Natasha had woken up little, unintentionally but she had had a crummy few days without dropping so it wasn’t surprising. Clint was going to be busy teaching and was already getting ready by the time Natty woke up.

“Hey, baby, good morning.” The archer smiled, tugging his shirt down over his head and coming over to drop a kiss to the girl’s head. 

Natty mumbled a reply, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. She already knew that a lot of her friends were working, she herself was supposed to be leading a group in the afternoon. If her aunt Bobbi and her uncles were working, Natasha would have to go to day care. If Maria was little, she would likely be there too, but if she was big, she would be mission planning.

“Ria?” Natty asked in a small voice, teeth nibbling into her lower lip. She could already feel the black cloud rolling over her thoughts, she felt exhausted and anxious all at once, like her tummy was full of butterflies and someone was sitting on her chest.

Clint shook his head, gently stroking his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry, baby, Ria’s working already.” Most days, they would all leave little updates on headspaces so they could properly plan for the day. So Maria was big, not little.

Natasha’s face fell and she could feel tears building in her eyes. She sniffled a little, but the tears refused to fall. She felt icky. She wished she could look after herself in their room all day but she was under the age they could allow that. It wasn’t fair!!! Natty could be a big girl. She could make her own food and entertain herself. _Stupid rules._

“Maybe one of your friends will be there, hmm?” Clint brushed his thumb over her cheek, Natasha sinking into the touch. “Sharon maybe? And how about a deal, if there’s no one there you know and want to play with, you can go and sit in uncle Phil’s office and play with Mel’s stuff, okay?” 

Phil had a lot of paperwork to do and a lot of calls to make, he wouldn’t be much fun, but at least she would have someone keeping an eye on her.

“Fine.” Natasha grumbled, rubbing at her eyes and pouting the whole time Clint got her ready for the day.

…

Entering daycare wasn’t as bad as the girl had thought it was going to be. She’d been hoping a friend would be there, but also preparing for the worst. And the worst wasn’t even that bad, she supposed, cause worst case scenario still meant she spent time with her uncle.

Natty, holding tightly to Clint’s hand, looked around the room, standing on her tiptoes so she could peer over the sea of littles and bigs getting settled.

She didn’t see Sharon’s blonde hair peeking out from anywhere which was sad, and she was about to give up on finding anyone she trusted enough to be around all day when she spotted somebody waving at her from the other side of the room.

_Grant!_

There was a friend there after all!

Natasha waved back enthusiastically, a smile spreading across her face, much to Clint’s happiness. “See, baby, I knew there’d be someone friendly here.” He squeezed the girl’s hand and Natty faced the archer.

Her smile wavered, as it always did when it was time for Clint to leave. 

“Remember you can leave any time, okay, baby? Just tell one of the bigs and then you can go to Uncle Phil’s.” Clint pressed a super soft kiss to the girl’s forehead, brushing over her soft red curls. “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

Natasha shrugged a little. She had her backpack balanced in the crook of one arm, so her forefinger and thumb could be poking through the zip so she could stroke her stuffie’s fur rhythmically.

“I know, malyshka, I’m sorry daddy has to go be a boring adult today.” Clint pulled the girl into a hug, chin resting on top of her head. “You’re gonna be okay. You have your pens and colouring books, your special comfort items and your lunch and snack, and Grant’s gonna take good care of you, I bet.”

Natasha sniffled and nodded. Yeah, Grant would take good care of her.

“Okay, milaya, daddy’s gotta go now, okay? Let’s get you settled with Grant.” Clint gently guided Natasha over to her friend, making sure she was in a seat with a view of the entire room, and double checking she had all her items.

“I love you, baby.” Clint smiled, crouching beside Natty’s chair. The girl sniffed and sighed loudly. “Love daddy.” She whispered back, soft and quiet.

After more hugs and kisses, Clint really did need to be heading off. He waved to Natty the whole time, almost earning him a door in his face for his trouble.

She’d be okay.

Right?

…

After chatting a little, Grant and Natty got set up for their first activity. They usually started with a craft or inside play before moving outside, normally after Natty had taken a nap and they’d eaten lunch.

Spreading out her pens and colouring books so the boy could share, they got stuck into their activity. 

One minute, the pair were play arguing over who was using the red pen first when Grant stiffened completely, the pen slipping from his grasp and clattering on the table. The boy sucked in a breath and held it, hands closing into fists.

His whole body was coiled and tense, his back ramrod straight and eyes staring dead ahead at the door to the main daycare room.

The whole shift in Grant’s demeanour had taken maybe three seconds at most and as Natty looked up to follow the boy’s gaze, she knew they were in trouble. And not in the ‘little’ way of time outs or whatever, more like big trouble, and trouble in that moment meant something bad was going to happen.

John Garrett made his way over to the pairs table and as Grant all but flew from his chair, breaths catching in his throat, Natasha was already looking for an adult. But it was a busy busy day and some of the usual babysitters were working too so they had the bare minimum working in the centre, and they were clearly busy elsewhere.

That would have been the time that Natasha would usually age up. Danger, even if not directed at her entirely, normally forced her out of a drop so quickly her head span. But she hadn’t. She was dropped and Grant was clearly still dropped, and Garrett was still walking towards them.

He shouldn’t have had any access keys, he should have been in the middle of nowhere at one of the secure facilities, he should’ve been miles and miles away, trapped in a tiny box. But he wasn’t.

Natasha pushed her chair back and stepped in front of Grant. She was shorter than him, so he was still able to look over her head, but her body was mainly in the way of the boy’s. 

She wasn’t aged up, but it was time to act it. “Stay behind me.” She muttered to the boy, lifting her chin up and enacting her famous icy glare. Clint liked the joke that that look scared even Fury.

She could almost feel herself dissociating, her mind splitting into separate pieces. She should have aged up, but something had kept her young but young here wasn’t going to work. She would do anything for her friends, and that included testing the delicate boundaries of her mind and her headspaces. She was still Natty, but she also wasn’t Natty. She was small but not childlike. 

She was a storm, a hurricane, a raging inferno. She just was. And it was time to step the fuck up.

_Let’s do this._

“I would turn your ass around and get the hell out of here before I make you.” Natty sneered. Her insides vibrated and she felt like crying but she stayed strong and firm and locked down that side of her. Fight or flight, she was doing both.

Garrett clicked his tongue, a sleazy smile on his face. “Do you kiss your daddy with that mouth?”

Natasha hummed. “Funny.” She took the last step towards him before he could, still making sure Grant was behind her. The boy was an absolutely amazing fighter and agent, but it was clear he was young and he was lost in his head, as well as being beyond terrified.

“Lighten up, agent, I’m just here to see my boy.” The man’s smile disgusted Natty. It was sickening and gleeful and made her skin crawl.

“’M not your boy.” A soft voice muttered from behind Natasha and a jolt of both pride and terror ran through the redhead. 

Garrett dropped the fake smile, the man’s eyes dark. His body trembled finely with rage, hands clenched into fists. “Enough small talk.” He spat, voice ice and fire. “Get out of the fucking way, bitch.”

“Don’t call her that.” Grant growled from behind her. He tried to move away from the girl blocking him but Natasha flung an arm out and kept him in place. 

“Don’t worry, Grant, I’ve been called far worse by way bigger men.” Natasha smiled. “I don’t know how the fuck you wormed your way in here but trust me, it’s never happening again. I’m sure you know who I am, I’m sure you know the records I hold, my kill count, my reputation. In case that’s enough, maybe you know my younger selves aunt and uncles? They’re only the three highest members of Shield, so why would you, right? But here’s the thing, asshole, we could lock you in a box and drop you in the ocean and no one would ever find your body. Or, I could shoot you, right here.” She jabbed her finger into his stomach, “And it would be slow and painful and you’ll wish for death to come sooner.” 

The girl pushed herself into the man’s personal space, eyes darkening. “So I would get the fuck out of here whilst you still have legs you slimy little dick-weasel.” That was her brother’s potty mouth coming into play. And anyway, she had zero intention of letting him walk out of there fine and dandy, and he had zero intention of simply walking away. 

The man grabbed the hand that Natasha has used to show exactly where the bullet would go. His grasp was crushing and Natty could feel bones rubbing together. She paid it as little mind as possible, looking straight into the devil’s eyes, lips pulled into a smile. “Oh, so you want to try that, huh?” 

The grip tightened and she was close to him she could see how worked up he was. He was red in the face, eyebrows pinched and his teeth clenched together, every part of him was coiled and ready to attack. She could feel his cigarette stained breath across her cheek and Natty recalled the burn marks on her friends arm. Oh yeah, he was going to pay.

“Oh I’m so glad you chose this path.” The redhead sneered. She flipped their hands until her nails and her fingers were the ones digging into Garrett’s wrist. She squeezed hard as he stared down at her, clearly testing his will against hers. He would never win.

Natty could already see what was about to happen as soon as it began. Garrett’s nostrils flared and his other hand twitched at his side. Grant choked out the girl’s name from behind her just as the older man made his move.

It was a mistake on Garrett’s part, that was for sure. His hand shot out to strike her but never reached it’s mark. Instead, Natasha broke the hand she still held, cracking it back and twisting and twisting and twisting until she heard it snap. 

Nearly all eyes were on her, little’s frozen in place, games and toys forgotten, chatter coming to a standstill, filled instead with children holding their breaths as they watched The Black Widow make her mark. 

Garrett wasn’t done. Natty was so fucking glad he wasn’t done.

She countered the attacks with relative ease. He was bigger than her, hit harder than her but that was all. Natasha was faster, cleverer, trickier, angrier and all around a far better fighter than he could ever be. There was a reason she had earned her name, it was a warning to everyone, before they even met her, that she was dangerous and not to be fucked with.

Natasha knocked the man off his balance and using all her weight, she brought him crashing to the floor. Garrett tried to roll them, tried to get on top, tried tried tried, but nothing worked and nothing was going to work.

He had gotten in a few hits but nothing major and by the time Agent Hand finally reached them, the man was in a heap on the floor and security was being called. Garrett was completely out but Natasha couldn’t help but land one last blow, directly between his legs. Barely out of breath, she stood, pushing hair out of her eyes and wiping blood from her face with the back of her hand. She imagined it was a little strange to see a woman wearing dungarees, hair in pigtails, and a paci clipped to her collar, beat the shit out of a fully grown man, but hey who cared, she didn’t regret it at all.

It had been hard to stop. But he deserved more punishment than death would bring. 

“Whoever was in charge of that assholes removal the first time around needs to be fired.” Natasha hissed, backing up and holding her hand out to Grant as the guards dragged Garrett’s unconscious body out of the room. “Come on, Grant, let’s go get you set up with Coulson.”

She quickly gathered both of their belongings.

Natty could tell the last thing the trembling boy wanted was to stay there with everyone staring at him so after a small nod on his part, the redhead led him out of daycare.

She wasn’t actually big, but she couldn’t stop the act yet. She wasn’t sure she could even if she tried. Her insides were twisted and her mind was a jumbled chaotic mess just screaming at her to get herself somewhere she could be alone to freak out. She could feel it building and building and building. She didn’t feel the bruises on her skin, or the drop of blood dripping down her lip.

Natty didn’t remember getting to Coulson’s office, didn’t remember the trip at all. One second her and Grant were in the brightly coloured playroom and then they were in the office.

Phil was already waiting for them, phone in hand. Someone must have called him because he stood immediately. “Are you two okay?” He asked, stepping out from behind the desk.

“I’m fine.” Natasha nodded, glancing over at Grant. He was shuddering, arms wrapped around himself, eyes red and cheeks sticky with tears. He didn’t reply.

“We couldn’t stay there.” Things were getting blurry and bright and too much and not enough and she didn’t know who she was or what age she was, she needed to be alone. “He needs looking after.” She managed to get out after what was probably too long of a pause.

“Nat…” Phil said carefully, brows furrowed as he tried to understand where she was at. 

“I’m fine. I’m going to go cool off in my room.” If her tone was clipped and distant, Coulson didn’t show it, just nodded and offered his hand to Grant. 

“Come on, let’s sit you down.” Coulson murmured gently as the boy took his hand. He looked over his shoulder, “I’ll let Clint know.”

Natty shrugged and backpedalled out the door as fast as she could. 

She had been planning to go back to her and Clint’s room, but her feet took her elsewhere and her mind was too frayed to even really notice.

Natasha ran up a few flights of stairs, not feeling anything, barely able to try and keep herself present. Where was present? When even was it? Who was it?

The door to the stairwell clicked shut behind her and quite abruptly, the wave of emotions came crashing down over her, threatening to destroy everything.

The dark called to her, her oldest friend, and Natty sank into the depths.


	2. scary times and worried family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys here we go. please please please pay attention to the trigger warnings in the tags for this one. Self harm especially (unintentional or not, still happens). The first part of this chapter is what I discussed in the authors notes last time, the incident that happened with me. But obviously Natasha is way stronger and more capable of damage. Also she is an unreliable narrator!!! Important to remember.
> 
> the second half of this chapter is a little filler-y and we'll see Natty getting discovered next time!
> 
> I hope you guys like it <3

In that moment, Natasha didn’t understand a whole lot of anything. All she knew was that everything hurt. And not physically, she couldn’t even feel the marks left by Garrett’s hands, even though her nose was continuing to bleed, even though bruises bloomed up her wrist, even though she could taste metal in her throat.

Her outside was numb in a way she barely remembered, in a way that hadn’t happened in months, maybe even years, in a way that terrified not only her, but her small family around her. She would have given anything for her outside numbness to be switched with the deafening, agonising inside. She wished her insides were numb, quiet, still, and that her outside hurt instead.

Her head hurt so much. Her thoughts were screaming and chaotic monsters digging their way into her brain, leaving barbs and roots in their path. It was inside, all inside of her and she couldn't get away because no one could soothe it, there were no ice packs and pain meds to wash away the waves.

In that moment, she was the most upset she’d ever been, in the most pain she’d ever been, the most agonised, hurt, afraid, hopeless, she’d ever been. She was drowning. The words, the voices, in her head refused to settle. They wrapped around her and dragged her deeper and deeper below the surface. This time, she wasn’t so sure she would ever see the light again. It was overwhelming, all compassing, swallowing her whole.

Natasha wasn’t aware that she was screaming until she came to a little, throat burning, gasping for air that she’d been forcing from her lungs, knees aching from where they must have crashed into the ground.

_too much too much too much I can’t fuck I can’t do it_

Without forethought, without preamble, without even realising, Natasha was blindly attacking the wall. She'd stood fluidly without meaning to, her fists slamming into the plaster as she choked on sobs, as strangled, pained half screams caught on her lips and echoed around the stairwell. 

_hurts hurt hurts hurts hurts_

_Make it stop just make it stop please I can’t-_

There was blood on the wall, something in one of her hands had cracked but she barely felt a thing. With a cry, Natasha mashed her hand against the wall once more before pressing her back to it, sliding down to the floor, broken whimpers turning into full on sobs, with no time to catch her breath.

_stop stop stop stop stop_

Natty’s broken and bloody fist smashed into the side of her face, with no warning, no time to think, almost of her hands own volition, she hit out again. This time her knuckles caught her temple and the girl’s head flew to the side with he force. She sucked in a breath, finally able to take more than a little air.

Her head hurt. Outside. It hurt _outside._

She didn’t have time to think about what that meant, it felt like she’d lost all autonomy, all control of her body, because her hands were coming up again. Not just one fist, not just one side of her head, not just her temples. 

Natasha hit out again and again and again until the hits grew weaker and she was doing little more than slapping her palms against her cheeks. A frustrated and overwhelmed growl left Natty’s lips at how weak she was, how pathetic, how idiotic. 

_you’re disgusting. No one’s ever going to want you, not after this, not after they see how dark you are, they’ll only be disgusted and afraid. They don’t love you. You’re alone. Again. And it’s your fault. Stupid fucking girl!_

Natasha’s hand slammed into the floor beneath her, her teeth gritted against the wave of pain that had slowly started to settle into her body. 

“Stupid.” Natty spat, hand hitting the floor again, “Stupid!” She shouted, hot tears that hadn’t stopped once since the beginning, tracked down her face. Her eyes stung with them, she could barely see through the amount she was crying.

_you’re fucking broken. They were right all along, you don’t have a place in the world. You’re a killer and a monster, and a fucking pathetic one, look at yourself, crying like a baby, hurting yourself like a fucking crazy person. You’re done for. You may as well leave now, may as well give up, may as well crawl into a hole and die like the pathetic animal you are_

Natasha let out a cry, half whisper, voice hoarse from the screaming. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, face pressed to them, eyes burning. 

In the harsh lighting of the stairwell, her blood on the wall and her entire body throbbing with every quick beat of her heart, Natasha closed her eyes and sobbed.

_I can’t do it_

...

To say that Phil had been concerned when Natasha left his office would have been an understatement. To the naked, untrained eye, she would have seemed calm and collected, if not angry about what had just happened.

But Phil wasn’t untrained. His agent had seemed to be big, had talked like she was, acted like she was, but something behind her eyes unsettled Phil so greatly that he was picking up the phone before Natasha’s footsteps in the hall even faded. 

She’d replied to him too slowly, her words too stilted, too absent. Something was wrong. If she’d been just angry, Phil would have seen that, he knew her well enough. He doubted she would have shown it outwardly because of Grant, but the agent still would have known.

No, something was definitely wrong, not right, and there was no way Phil was just going to let Natasha go off on her own, whether she was big or not.

As much as he wanted to go after her, Phil also knew that he couldn’t just leave Grant or drag the boy along with him. The boy was sniffling as quietly as he could, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was trying to hide his upset, his fear, jaw clenched tight and his whole body coiled, eyes watery but refusing to shed tears.

Phil knew the boy a little, had seen him around, watched him train from time to time. He knew about him more from Natty than from the boy himself and he knew it was down to Natasha that anyone had known something was going on with Grant and his asshole of an (ex) uncle. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Phil hadn’t been the lead on that. He had been working on Sharon’s case and Nick wasn’t supposed to work on agent cases, not publicly anyway (Melinda had been welcome but very unexpected), and Bobbi and Maria had also been unable to take it.

The job had fallen to Sitwell and in that moment, Phil regretted that with every fibre of his being. He’d let the boy down, not handling it himself, but he wouldn’t make that mistake again. With a gentle squeeze of Grant’s shoulder, Phil turned and stepped away a little, phone against his ear.

“Clint? It’s Phil. You need to get here, something’s wrong with Natasha.”

…

Of course Natasha wasn’t answering her phone. That had been Clint’s first port of call after getting off the phone with Phil, obviously, and he’d been hoping she would answer. He’d rushed out of his lesson, throwing the reins to the assistant, grabbing his bag and heading into the hall. He’d called multiple times on his way to Phil’s office.

It wasn’t as if they answered every single time the other called, they were busy people, they taught and trained and planned missions everyday and sometimes phones were forgotten about. But Clint knew what had just happened and Natasha, if she was in an okay frame of mind, would know he would call her and wouldn’t not answer on purpose, she knew how worried he could get. And it wasn’t as if she was just big Natasha, not according to Phil, so not only was the archer worried about his partner, he was worried about his little girl.

Phil had been right, something was very very wrong. She’d missed his calls for a reason, and there was no way it was going to be as simple as a dead battery or silent ringer.

Shield was a big fucking place and sure if he went searching he’d find Natasha eventually, but something in his gut told him that they didn’t have that kind of time. Clint felt sick, his stomach in knots, goosebumps covering his skin. He stopped, rubbing at his forehead. He had been going to rendezvous with Phil but his boss would be busy with Grant and wouldn’t be able to search anyway.

Fucking hell why had he left her there? She’d had reservations about going, and Clint had been half tempted to just set her up in the corner of the training room, had been ready to lift her up and take her with him when she’d seen Grant. 

The archer had settled some, seeing the boy, he was fiercely protective and could be on the cold side of things when it came to other people, strangers anyway. He took a while to warm up to, to let down his guard, to show anything more than the angry and intimidating outside. But Natasha had definitely been let in, Grant relished being a ‘big brother’ figure to Natty and the girl was always happy to see him.

So Clint had left, feeling brighter about their prospects. 

And then he’d gotten the call. 

John Garrett fucking _sucked._

“Think, Barton.” Clint muttered under his breath, twiddling his phone in his hands. There was little point going to their room, Phil had said she’d gone in the opposite direction, and their hidey-holes were too many to search if he was trying to be quick. 

“Fuck it.” Clint tapped an image on his phone and held it up to his ear. 

_please answer please answer please answer_

It was unlikely, she was extremely busy, she probably wouldn’t even have her phone, it was a waste of-

“This is Hill.”

Clint let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “Maria? I need help.”

…

Maria met Clint in the surveillance wing of the building ten minutes later. She was the lead on the mission they were planning but Bobbi knew almost as much as her girlfriend about it and would be able to keep prep going until the agent got back.

Clint had explained only briefly over the phone, but by the time the pair met up, Maria had most of the information from passing whispers and not so quiet conversations that she’d gotten on her way down. Apparently the whole of Shield was abuzz with the news that Black Widow had literally destroyed a guy in the daycare. Maria hoped it wouldn't ruin the place for the girl, that she wouldn't be terrified to go back or that others wouldn't let her. Bigs could be awfully protective, even if they were agents and often hurt and got hurt.

The pair didn’t waste any time, entering the room and clearing the workers out so there would be as little people as possible who were aware something was going down. They pulled up the big screens, quickly swiping through every single camera the academy held. Natasha knew how to hide, was an expert at avoiding detection. Usually. No one wanted Natasha to be in a bad frame of mind, but that did increase the likelihood of finding her on the cameras.

It was Maria who noticed something first. Clint's finger had been cramping and his anixety had been growing as he flicked through images to no avail.

"Clint-" A soft, choked version of his name that the archer desperately hated.

Not a person, not red hair, not any discarded possessions of Natasha’s. It was altogether worse than that.

_Blood_

On the wall, on the floor, distinct finger prints and foot steps littering the white hall.

There was nothing tying Natasha to the blood, nothing that suggested it was hers, not even a single foot in the view of the security camera, but Maria and Clint both knew. Gut instinct could be both brilliant and terrifying. 

Natasha wasn’t in view but that was more likely to be because of a blindspot than the woman purposely hiding. 

Without communicating, without even needing to look at one another, the pair were rushing to the doors and out into the hallway. They had no idea what they could be walking into. They could find Natty or Natasha, they could find that the blood was hers or someone elses, they could find that she had been hurt by someone, or had hurt herself. The latter was far more likely. The archer thought he might be sick and Maria looked no better, pale and silent as they stormed through Shield.

Something deep inside Clint told him that it wasn’t going to be good at all. 

Maria and Clint jogged through the hallways, upstairs, pushing through door after door, stampeding up stairs until they reached the stairwell their friend, partner, and family member was likely hiding in.

The archer took a breath, glancing over at Maria, who had also stopped. The agent met his gaze, panic and fear on both their features. Jaw set, she nodded her head and pressed her hands to the door. One more measured breath and she was pushing into the unknown.

“Oh my god-“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for stopping by! lemme know what you thought and stay safe <3333


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi it's been a while. so long in fact that when I got here I was logged out. I won't bore anyone, shit happens, things are rough y'know. Enjoy! Sorry for mistakes and words that might not be right- brain fog sucks
> 
> tw's: unintentional self harm and hinted at intentional self harm, blood, injures, PTSD, mentions of how natasha could potentially commit suicide (she doesn't, and won't, but thoughts are there)

_Jesus Christ_

Even if Clint had had all day, he would never have been able to explain the horror he felt as he and Maria took in the bloody scene. In those first few seconds, Natasha had been out of view and Clint had actually been terrified that they were too late. That his partner, his baby, would be too hurt, that she had done too much, that they had been too slow.

Most people could never anticipate what Natasha could do next, could never imagine how her brain worked, would never be able to know her next move. Clint had thought he knew better than most people. But there, in the hallway, with blood around the white walls, he found even he didn’t know what to anticipate. And that was beyond scary. What was she capable of when under extreme duress? What was she capable of when she was so upset? What could she possibly do to herself? 

Natasha was deadly. Deadly to most people she would ever encounter, so it filled the archer with dread at the mere thought of what Nat could do to herself.

But then he saw her. Instead of being able to take a breath at the sight of her, Clint’s chest grew tighter still.

She hadn’t reacted to the door opening. Not even looking up at noises was a bad sign. It meant she wasn’t entirely present, there was every chance she was experiencing flashbacks or had otherwise just gotten lost in her head. The girl was usually so alert that even the sound of footsteps in the next room, or a trash can lid closing, or the noise of a hole puncher, would catch her attention and her focus for a few seconds. But that heavy door, squeaking across the floor, handle hitting into the wall, slamming as it closed shut again, didn’t get anything from the girl. Nothing at all.

Natasha had her back pressed to the wall, she was tucked under the next flight of stairs, which explained the blind spot on the camera. She was curled in so tightly on herself that Clint couldn’t see any of her face, but he could see her hands. He could see the dents and cracks and blood splattered wall and it was clear what had happened to damage it. She was so coiled that her spine looked about ready to snap. Every part of her he could see screamed danger; she was breathing fast and shallow, nails digging into her knees, rocking backwards and forth.

And her hands.

The girl’s hands were…Clint couldn’t summon to mind any other words than absolutely _wrecked_. It was hard to see through the blood but as he and the other woman crept forward very slowly, he began to see worse things beneath it. 

In all reality, Natasha hadn’t been alone for that long of a time, so to see the bruising so plain and clear after such a short amount of time was worrying. He wished the bruising was the extent of her injuries but it wasn’t, because when had it ever been? She had clearly broken something, more likely more than one thing. From his position, he could see at least two fingers that were definitely not in the right place. Her fingers were curled into her knees, nails causing yet more damage as they clawed into the girl’s knees.

He knew when they wiped that blood away, her hands were going to be bruised and swollen for weeks. They’d have to set the fingers and bandage them and she wouldn’t be able to work or train or teach or even go to the daycare. They were agents so it wasn’t as if little’s couldn’t go when they were injured with cuts or scrapes or even stitched wounds, as long as they were careful on the equipment. But with things like broken bones and head injuries, they had rules in place. 

What would she do? Even if she wasn’t hurt that much, it was likely she would be pulled off active duty whilst she went through psych evals again. Surely, that would make everything worse. Natasha lived for her work, lived for her job and her need to protect people and now it was probable she wouldn’t even be able to teach, let alone leave the facility for missions. 

Were her hands the only part of her injured? What if-

“Clint.” A soft voice said to his left, hand squeezing his bicep. _Maria_. “I know this is hard,” She murmured, “but we need to get Natasha out of here, okay? We can think and panic later.”

“Yeah.” He breathed, exhaling shakily and nodding his head. They could panic later. _A lot. And at length._

Clint got close enough to Natasha as he dared, not willing to invade her personal space at such an uncertain time. He got down on his knees on the floor, dropping his head low. “Nat?” He said softly, almost whispering. He wasn’t going to touch her, not yet. 

But the girl didn’t answer and it was clear he hadn’t been loud enough so even though he worried about startling her, he raised the tone of his voice whilst also trying to keep it soft and un-intimidating. “Natasha, love?”

Natasha jumped, jerking her head up so fast the back of it hit into the wall. She didn’t even seem to acknowledge the pain. Then those green eyes were looking up at him and Clint felt so suddenly nauseous he thought he was going to be sick.

Because it wasn’t just her hands. Why had he even briefly thought it could be? That was extremely naïve of him.

Clint knew that maybe one of the injuries could have been Garrett, but the rest had definitely come from Natasha herself. One side of her face was worse than the other but both were covered in bruises, red marks, blood and scratches. Her nose was bleeding, her left eye was red and blood shot, she’d somehow split open a cut above her eyebrow. She’d hit herself with force, a lot of it.

He should have been faster. Shouldn’t have even left her there in the first place. When it came to Natasha, he had to trust his gut more. He’d felt uneasy dropping her off at daycare, and it wasn’t like he was psychic, but he needed to listen to that voice inside himself next time. Daddy instinct and everything.

Trying to breathe through his nose so he didn’t vomit everywhere, Clint swallowed bile and forced his voice to work. “Hi, love.” He whispered, feeling more than seeing as Maria dropped down to her knees beside him, a little further away so the girl wasn’t crowded. He couldn’t move his gaze from her face. 

“Hey, Nat.” Maria murmured, offering a weak approximation of a smile. “Why don’t we get off this icky floor and go somewhere more comfortable?” She was managing to stay way more chill than Clint was. 

Natasha blinked between the pair, brows furrowing. She opened and closed her mouth a few times with no words succeeding in coming out. She inhaled shakily, fingers clenching around her knees. A small wince ran through the girl, setting her body into a soft shaking motion. “I…” From even just that, Clint could tell her voice was all but gone and it was easy to guess that she’d been screaming at some point. He was selfishly glad the stairwell cameras didn't record sound.

“It’s okay, darlin’, you don’t need to speak. Why don’t I pick you up and we can go to our room?” He suggested mildly, grinding his teeth with the force of trying to keep his emotions in check. _Please, Nat._

Natasha swallowed hard, her own teeth clashing together in the way she did when she was anxious. Clint knew he had at least two pacifiers in his bag, and Maria probably had a few too but at that moment, it didn’t seem like a good idea. They didn’t know her age, didn’t know what she’d been seeing and feeling, didn’t know if an object in her mouth was in any way a good plan or would result in being bitten or anything like that.

The lines of the girl’s pale face were taut and it was obvious without even asking that Natasha was in pain. A lot of it, probably. All three had suffered far worse beatings but something about being little made things amplified. Her emotions, her reactions, and definitely her pain. 

A rock settled in Clint’s stomach as he realised that had potentially been the point. Natasha probably hadn’t been aware of it. The hitting had likely been done without much intent behind it, if at all. It sometimes happened when the girl’s emotions were too much, her head too loud, but usually someone was there to stop it. He hadn’t been there.

_He’d failed her._

The hitting normally wasn’t because she wanted to hurt, not that she knew of, but outside pain could spur her on to continue the actions, to use that instead of feeling all the pain inside. Hitting herself, whilst not her original intentions, could turn into it being done with intent. It was tricky, a domino effect, and it wasn’t as if she was able to tell him whether it had just happened or had been done purposefully. 

“Nat?” Clint whispered this time, his voice shaky and wet with tears that he was desperately trying to hold in. Guilt, about hurting her family, would only make everything worse and Clint was downright terrified of just how much worse things could get.

Natasha looked wide eyed between the pair of agents, teeth not only grinding against each other but also digging into her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Both Clint and Maria winced, bodies acting on Big instinct. They desperately wanted to rub the drop of fresh blood away, take her hand, lift her up and take her somewhere safe. But unwanted touches had only ever brought disaster.

It wasn’t as if they could sit in that stairwell forever, but the two knew they would, if that’s what it took. They would sit and wait in the quiet until Natasha was ready for touch. Either that, or she aged up. But judging by the news of what had happened in the daycare and the girl’s face, age was tricky. No one knew her age, knew what headspace she was in or if there was an entire new one. They just didn’t know. The girl herself probably didn't know.

“Sweetheart, we just want to help.” Maria said softly. “We can help, okay? We can clean you up, get you changed, set you down for a nap or play. Whatever you want. This is your choice. We don’t do anything without you saying so.”

And yeah, Clint was so fucking glad that Maria was an actual angel because finding his own voice was proving difficult. He just wanted to hold his baby.

“But before anything else, we just wanna get you off this icky floor, okay? Get you somewhere comfy and nice. Would that be okay?” Maria offered a smile, something Clint didn’t think he was able to possess at that moment in time, no matter how much he tried.

Natasha looked between them again, and Clint was about ready to find a better position to sit and wait, but then she nodded. She sniffled a little, dragging a shaking and bleeding hand over her eyes as a few tears mixed with the blood down her cheeks.

“Yeah?” Clint asked, chest just a little looser. “Is it okay if I pick you up?” He was more than happy to check, double check, triple check everything they were going to do was okay before they did it. 

Natasha didn’t speak, just cleared her throat with a wince and nodded again. 

This time Clint did manage a tiny smile. “Okay, darlin’, on three.” He slowly pushed himself up from his knees, careful to not make his movements too sudden, before leaning over, hands sliding under her armpits to lift her up. 

Natasha didn’t even flinch, which seemed like a very small good sign. Another one was the fact she slowly lay her bruised cheek against his shoulder, fingers clenching around his tee. Her legs wrapped around his waist like a monkey.

“Okie dokie, little love, let’s go home.”


	4. Overwhelmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’m gonna be putting this on all fics I update in the near future. First off, I wanna say sorry to everyone I haven’t answered in the comments. I see and appreciate every single comment more than I can ever say. Anxiety is real however, so replying can be kinda nerve wracking for me. I’m trying to do better. For the next couple of weeks I’m going to be replying to at least all of my WIP’s comments and hopefully every fic comment I’ve ever gotten. I swear I love all comments, I just get overwhelmed very easily. Thank you all for sticking with me and I hope I haven’t upset anybody or came across as rude not replying. 
> 
> Thank you all for everything, I love all of you <3
> 
> Now for this chapter. I hope you like it! TW's are self harm, violence, blood mentions, nasty talk someone says about themselves  
> malyshka - baby in Russian

Natasha kept her face firmly tucked away against Clint’s neck as the three of them left the stairwell. Using her master key, Maria locked the door behind them with one hand and tapped at her phone with the other. It was obvious she was contacting someone to come and clean up but Clint said nothing, not wanting to make the girl feel any worse than she already did about a little bit of a mess.

His little girl’s health and safety was more important than anything else.

The archer already knew that there was no way in hell he was going back to work that day. Someone else could pick up his teaching job and he could prep for the mission from their room if there was any chance Natty would go down for a nap at some point. He had more important work to do than mission prep; helping Natasha, getting her settled, and arranging for a psych appointment. 

Maria was even busier than him, and whilst he did feel a little guilty about pulling her away, Clint knew she was always a big help and her presence comforted Natasha, even if she didn’t show it or say anything.

As if sensing his thoughts, Maria smiled at him as she tucked her phone away. “I’ll help get sissy settled, hmm?” She directed this at Natasha, who was listening even if not making any outward signs she was. The unspoken ‘and then I have to leave’ was left in the air, there was no point saying it and potentially making Natty even more upset. 

Clint nodded his head in understanding, making sure Natasha was properly hanging on. He headed towards the main doors that would take them to the lobby, but Maria nudged him to the side. Brandishing her key again, she pointed over to one of the back doors, it would take them longer, but they should avoid more people.

“It’ll be quieter this way.” She murmured, smiling softly at Natasha, who had craned her head a little to see where they were going. 

Maria was an angel in black leather pants.

The trip to Clint and Natasha’s room didn’t take too long, even with the detour, and soon enough they were home and closing the door behind them. The girl had been quiet the whole time, and after the brief look to Maria, hadn’t taken her face from it’s hiding place. Her arms were firmly hooked around his neck or clutching the shoulder of his shirt.

“Alright, love, here we are.” Clint said softly, rubbing a hand up and down her back as he very carefully lowered her onto the bed, struggling a little to get her to untangle herself from his body. “We’re home now, nice and safe.” 

It was incredibly hard for Natasha to feel safe anywhere, but their little room with their photos and trinkets and lovingly put up book shelves and pictures was the closest thing she had to that feeling. Whimpering softly, she only clutched tighter to the front of his shirt, seeming almost betrayed.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, little love, just gonna sit you down.” Clint hummed, bouncing her on his hip. “It’s gonna be hard to get a look at your pretty little face if you don’t let go. I promise I’m not moving, I’ll stay right here, okay?”

With a sniffle, Natty very reluctantly let Clint perch her on the bed, running a shaking hand over still tear-filled eyes.

“Good job, baby, thank you for helping me.” The archer had definitely not been anticipating clingy Nat, he’d been more expected the girl to not want any touch, to flinch at it, to not really let anyone near her. It was somewhat of a relief that she hadn’t wanted to let go, really, it would make cleaning her wounds and comforting her far easier if she was willing to have touch.

“M’kay, angel.” Clint said softly, crouching in front of her, hand resting on the girl’s knee. “First, we gotta get you cleaned up and help with the ouchies, does that sound okay?”

Natasha hadn’t looked up yet, eyes steadfastly focused on the hand on her knee and nothing else. She pulled in a shaky little breath and squeezed her eyes shut for a second, a few more tears spilling over flushed cheeks, mixing with the blood and making a rather alarming picture. 

It seemed to take a little while for the girl to gather her thoughts and find her voice and instead of answering the question, a very soft whimper escaped her lips. “I…I’m sorry-“ She whispered hoarsely, hiccupping weakly, more tears falling. “S…sorry.”

Maria, who had been rummaging around in the med kit, paused and abandoned the box, heading over to the pair. Instead of crouching too, she carefully sat beside Natasha, still about a foot away, but close enough she could reach the girl if needs be. 

“Natty…” Clint said, voice a little weak. He swallowed and shook his head. “Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for. Absolutely nothing.” Usually, he would take her hands but they were bloodied and bruised and he didn’t want to hurt her. “Please, love, I promise. I promise.”

The girl clearly didn’t believe him, face pinched and teeth grinding together so hard Clint could hear it. Her fingers curled into fists, even as she winced, frantically shaking her head from side to side. “N…no. Me…messed up bad. Real bad.” She whispered, pressing her fists to her eyes, hard enough for stars to burst across her vision. 

“Sweetheart, no-“ Maria tried to talk, shuffling a little closer, but Natty wasn’t done.

Nat sniffed hard, voice shaking and wet with tears, still throaty and low due to the screaming earlier. “Bad. ‘M bad a…and gross and st…stupid! Stupid baby!” She exclaimed, and all of a sudden, too quick for Clint or Maria to stop it, Natasha was throwing one of her hands into the side of her face.

Eyes widening, Clint reached and carefully grabbed onto the girl’s wrists to stop it happening again, but Natasha was absolutely not having it and began to struggle. She wrenched at his grip, trying to stand up and kick out at the same time, pulling desperately at him to try and get Clint to let go. 

“No!” A panicked and frustrated gasp escaped her lips as she kicked her legs out, almost launching herself across the bed to get away. Natty was crying again now, though it was even more forceful than before, loud, grating sobs that seemed like they would go on forever. 

Half on her back, in the middle of the bed, she briefly managed to get one hand away. Maria intercepted this time before it could reach its destination, trying to hold onto the girl’s hand both firmly and gently. She really really did not want to hurt Natty even more, but they had to stop her doing more damage to herself. “Natty, sweetheart, try and take a breath-“

Hysterical was the word going through Clint’s brain as the two adults almost wrestled the frantic girl on the bed, as she screamed and moved and tried to hit out. It was nothing like the moves everyone knew Black Widow was capable of. They were sloppy and desperate and decidedly weak, not a single hit or kick doing anything to hurt the other two. 

“Baby, baby please, calm down, you’re okay, please.” Clint pleaded, heart in his throat, stomach flipping enough to make him feel seriously nauseous. He didn’t remember the last time anything like that had happened, not that he’d seen in person, something seriously bad had gone down in the daycare. The incident had triggered something way worse than just a normal panic attack or flashback, this was bigger than they’d known.

Natty yelled and shouted, no words she managed to get out making any sense, it was more just a bunch of noises, rushed and jumbled. The hitting began to slow down as the girl dissolved into a fit of sobs, curling in on herself, face pressed to the blanket beneath her.

None of the hits had done anything to the other two agents, which told Clint Natty didn’t want to hurt anyone. She could do a lot of damage to others with just her bare hands, but her lashing out had clearly been to get away. Not even get away really, she had just been trying to get her hands free because she was literally compelled into hitting herself. In that moment, that was the only comfort her brain could come up with. The only way to get her brain to quiet down.

Clint had been getting so panicked he’d briefly though about sedating her. He was so fucking glad as she started to stop wriggling and fighting them. They were going to have to work back through all the coping mechanisms the girl had, not re-learn them, but re-apply them, remind Natty of all the good ways they had to sort through rough emotions and bad heads. 

Natasha was clearly too upset to be able to see any other ways to cope, to deal with everything she was feeling. The hitting was a reflex, a desperate attempt to try anything. Clint hated that her doing that, even if not intentional, had helped Natasha in some way or her body wouldn’t still be using that to stop the thoughts. 

Yeah, they really needed to work back through things. Clint would be there for as long as it took. They would figure it out. They had to figure it out.

They would re-discover those better ways, Clint vowed.

The archer clambered up onto the bed, glancing at Maria’s stricken face. She nodded her head at Clint’s expression and the pair moved to do something potentially dangerous, praying it didn’t backfire. Sometimes she needed to not be touched. The man seriously hoped his gut had been right on this one.

Clint and Maria slowly gathered the girl up, the dark headed woman following the archer’s lead. Natty seemed to go willingly, still crying, but it was more exhausted soft sobs than full on screaming and weeping. 

_Oh thank god._ Clint’s gut had come through again.

They settled Natty against Clint’s chest, his arms wrapped around her as he began to rock the pair of them from side to side. Maria shuffled closer still, one hand rubbing up and down to girl’s back, the other running fingers through tangled red hair. 

“Just breathe, malyshka.” Clint whispered against her temple, a few of his own tears escaping as he held his little girl close, feeling sick to his stomach, heart heavy. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

Maria sniffed delicately and cleared her throat.

“We’ve got you, Natty.”


End file.
